


Secrets to Keep For The World

by stellations



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Episode: s02e05 Pavor Nocturnus, Gen, Prophetic Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellations/pseuds/stellations





	

The light was too harsh on her eyes.

Even after the long trip back from the Mayan tomb, all this sunlight still hurt her, burned through to her very soul. Part of that was, of course, due to the reason she had gone to search for the tomb in the first place. _That_ wound still tore at her like an infection, something her body couldn't just fight off. The three scratches had long since healed, but she felt them near constantly, as though they were still visible across her upper arm. The physical sign of the trauma that had yet to release her.

"You're totally pissed," Will had said with a grin, incorrectly assuming he knew the reason she was so subdued. But she had played along, let him think what he wanted, because she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. He didn't even know the reason she had left in the first place, what she was really searching for all the way out there. Alone. And he never could. 

Admitting that she had tried to shorten her longevity would be too close to suicide for anyone's liking. Her Old Friend would quietly tell her no and how could she bring it up with him? He had been at her side, helped her, for so many decades. Will would lecture her about responsibility and they would argue; he would show in every way that he was hurting at the idea of it and she would push back because she always did. Kate might shrug because it wasn't her place yet and she still wasn't convinced no one would think she wouldn't skip off in the middle of the night. Henry... oh dear Henry would give her that torn look, the one that always told her he would support her, but he wasn't happy with what she had chosen. If he were to protest anything she ever did, it would be this.

So she was alone with her thoughts and memories. Alone as the tears started sliding down her cheeks. Alone as she imagined Jessica turning into that awful creature, her tongue mutated, her body writhing through the transformation. The screams of those so-called zombies -- what else _could_ they be called? -- would haunt her for the rest of her days. The very memory gave her a shiver, climbing through her shoulders, down her spine, and into her limbs, making her shake until she wrapped herself up in her arms and her jacket. Feeling her knees start to buckle, she made her way to the window seat overlooking the city, sliding onto it and curling her legs up underneath her. One side propped up by pillows, she let her head rest against the glass. At least the cool window was a stark contrast to the heat of pain she felt slicing through her with every beat of her heart.

She had lost her daughter and her best friend in quick succession. One after the other. Both deaths weighed heavily on her, more so than nearly any other. She couldn't survive these, but the only means she had of tapering off her extended life had ended in a vision of chaos and destruction the likes of which she never could allow to come to pass. She felt broken. If someone were to throw a baseball through her window, shatter the glass into a thousand pieces that crunched and chipped as the ball rolled to a stop -- that was what she felt like. Each tear she let fall was like a piece of that glass, chipping away at her mind and body until she had cried her last and all that was left was a feeling of emptiness.

Blank, emptiness. She had nothing left. Nothing left to give, nothing left to lose.

She heard someone enter the office, but it wasn't until a tea cup mysteriously appeared in her view that she realized her Old Friend had made her something comforting to sooth away the pains of a grieving mother. That knowledge made the tears fall all over again, even as she took the cup in hand. Its warmth kept the bitterness away for a time, even as she did grieve, not for herself and her losses, but what had almost come to pass. She had chosen not to let that future be a reality, but at a tremendous personal cost.

Eventually, she stilled, her sobs quieted, and she was able to drink her tea. Her Old Friend said nothing and for that she was eternally grateful. Nothing needed to be said between them and that was the beauty of their friendship. He knew she was grieving and that was all that was necessary. Someday her grief would subside. Until then, he would be at her side, her closest friend and the only one she could trust not to ask questions or act like everything was fine. 

Nothing was fine, but they only knew half of it. The rest was her secret to keep for the sake of the world. She sipped her tea in silence, letting it blot up the pain of her world. She would be all right. Nothing would make things perfect again, nothing would bring back her daughter or James or take away the vision she had been given. She could grieve with her Old Friend so that in two hours' time she could go back to work, find Henry in his lab and Will in his office and pretend that she was just angry that she didn't find what she was looking for.

Anger was easier to fake than sorrow was to hide.


End file.
